


Sam helps Dean with the nightmares.

by coldspot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Graphic Sex, M/M, Top Dean, Violence, Wincest - Freeform, and a little sad, and naughty, no violent sex though, very loving sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldspot/pseuds/coldspot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setting: Beginning of season 4, shortly after Dean returns from hell<br/>Summary: Sam/Dean. Sam wants to help Dean get past his nightmares, and Dean works to reconcile the way he touches Sam with the things he did in Hell.</p><p>Basically PWP with introspection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam helps Dean with the nightmares.

Sam sat back against the pillows and arranged his long legs around Dean. He was naked and still wet from his shower. They hadn't said much to each other this time. Before Dean went to hell, they frequently made love - an attempt to hold on to each other against the inevitable, a desperate denial of the Hell Hound on Dean's heels. Now that Dean was back, they both expected relief; instead, they found themselves separated by something even more intangible than a Hell Hound - the haunting fear that they don't deserve each other.

It was Sam who started it this time. He didn't mean to, not really. Dean was still asleep when he got up early in the morning. He took a quick shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He ignored the text message from Ruby. He didn't want Dean to know about that just yet. It was only when he stepped out of the bathroom to find Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers pressed into his tired eyes in agitation, that Sam let himself believe, just briefly, that he was truly needed.

Sam knew Dean was having nightmares. When you sleep in the same room for the vast majority of your lives, you know what nightmares sound like. He wanted to make them go away, to show Dean that even though he couldn't save him from Hell, he could at least erase the consequences. 

Sam quietly stepped up to Dean, nudging his knees apart to stand between his thighs. He felt a brief moment of panic when Dean didn't respond right away, instantaneously reverting to the much-mulled-over fear of having broken his promise, of not being good enough or strong enough to save Dean. But then Dean looked up at him - the same bright green eyes that he watched turn lifeless just a few months before. They were sad but indeed very much alive. 

Sam held his breath as Dean slipped his hands under the towel and ran his palms over Sam's wet thighs. Sam was getting hard just being this close, and the towel wasn't hiding him well at all. Dean's thumbs ghosted over the base of Sam's cock, making his breath hitch. Even in sex, Dean was the better hunter. Dean's hands were always steady, and he could control his breathing, be even and thoughtful and smart. Sam always fell apart. Dean suddenly grabbed Sam's ass and spread his cheeks open, exposing the hot wet skin inside. The quick action opened the towel around Sam's cock, and sensations of suddenly being exposed in multiple ways made him moan hard. 

Dean pulled the towel down and dropped it to the floor. He leaned in and slowly licked the head of Sam's hard cock. He felt Sam shiver under his hands, and it turned him on. Sam was so alive under Dean's touch, so inherently different than the countless people Dean was used to putting his hands on in hell - those tied down to metal tables, hanging from chains in the ceiling, cowering in corners in fear of him. They were all cold, vaguely stale and unpleasant to the touch. 

Dean dragged his tongue down to the base of Sam's cock and kissed him there, sucked on his skin all along the length, sometimes dragging his teeth on it like Sam always liked. He took the head into his mouth and sucked hard. Sam's fingers pressed into his shoulders, and his knees shook. Dean remembered how he'd hang his victims by their wrists on a chain just long enough to leave them reaching with their toes to the ground, desperate to stand and relieve some of the pain in their arms and chests.  Sam was always bad at standing during sex. It never took very long before he had to be laid down on the bed.

Dean took Sam's cock into his mouth and forced his hips back as Sam instinctively tried to shove himself into his throat. Sam whispered a small 'sorry' and tried hard to keep himself steady as Dean sucked him off. Sam's whole body was hot, and he was shaking and shivering and moaning. 

"Dean," Sam gasped as Dean swallowed his cock over and over again. He meant to get Dean's attention, but Dean just interpreted the calls as part of Sam's incoherent moaning. Sam wanted to tell him that he can't be the selfish one anymore, that he wants to pleasure Dean, not just take from him like he always does. Especially now... after everything Dean's been through for him. Dean roughly grabbed Sam's balls in his hand as he took his cock all the way into his throat, and Sam nearly screamed. Instead of the complex feelings Sam was hoping to articulate, he simply groaned, "Fuck me."

Dean pulled his mouth away and looked up at Sam. He licked his lips and said, "Get on the bed and spread your legs." Sam immediately regretted the absence of Dean's mouth. His cock was very hot and swollen, and the wet spit all over it brought the chill of their cheap motel room directly to it. But he did as he was told and spread his legs wide for Dean. He looked down at himself. His nipples were achingly hard, and his cock was red and leaking. His thighs were shaking as he tried to spread his knees as wide as possible. 

Dean retrieved the hand lotion from the bathroom and settled himself between Sam's legs. He was still fully clothed, but this is what he was used to now. This is how it was in hell: his victims naked, spread out helpless in front of him, desperate, taking whatever he chose to do to them. Dean carefully lifted one of Sam's legs and kissed the ankle, resting it on his shoulder. He ran his hands up and down the long stretched limb, ghosting fingertips over the inside of Sam's thigh.  He licked the skin under Sam's knee and felt him tense up at having the sensitive spot tested.  Sometimes, Dean would stab a sharp knife through his victims' thighs and rip it through their legs down to their ankles like he was gutting a fish, exposing all the muscle and bone, flooding the table with blood. 

Dean stroked Sam's leg with one hand and rubbed his balls with the other - that always got Sam to relax his ass. When he saw Sam's hole open a little, he brought his fingers to it and pressed the pad of his thumb over it. Sam was biting his lip and breathing through his nose. Dean rubbed his hole, pressed his finger against it just a little to test the tension. "Have you been fingering yourself while I was gone?" He asked.

Sam nodded, suddenly flooded with visions of himself spread out on the motel bed as he shoved his fingers into his ass, or fucking himself hard in the shower while screaming Dean's name. "Yeah, Dean, a lot," he managed.

"Good," Dean said simply - the same tone he used to praise his victims for enduring a particularly painful session. Sam surprised himself by how glad he was to hear it. Using his fingers as a substitute for Dean made him feel dirty and lonely, and it eased the bitterness of the memory to know that Dean approved. 

Dean squeezed a generous glob of lotion onto his finger and carefully pressed it into Sam's hole. Sam's body was tense, but his ass opened easily.  Dean absently rubbed the thumb of his free hand over Sam's raised knee, gently massaging the soft skin underneath, ignoring the memory of removing a man's kneecap with a sharp flat blade.  Sam moaned hard as Dean worked two fingers into his ass and slowly started fucking him with them. 

Dean got lost in the small touches he placed over Sam's leg, in his fingers moving faster inside of Sam's ass. He could have stayed there forever - watching Sam's naked sweat-covered body shivering beneath him, hearing his breaths hitch, watching his lips turn pale as he bites down on them. Suddenly, Dean felt a tug on his shirt - he almost expected to hear an accompanying sob of, "God please I'm begging you, let me go." Instead, Sam moaned, "Dean, take off your clothes."

Dean slowly pulled his fingers out of Sam's ass, leaving him open and wet. He placed Sam's leg back down and pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it to the floor. He got up to take off his pants and watched Sam refold his legs from their wide open position. The rearrangement, just moving around and sitting up, made Sam realize how open he was. He slowly stroked his cock as he watched Dean undress. 

Dean felt strangely vulnerable removing his clothes in front of Sam.  It took him back to the days of his own torture, when he was the one strapped to the table, exposed and helpless. Sam immediately noticed the sudden distance in Dean's expression. He reached out to Dean and grabbed his arm, pulled him down onto the bed. Dean eased himself over Sam's body and settled between his open legs, so inviting. Sam let out a small whine as he raised his hips to press his cock against Dean's, and Dean responded instantly, shoving Sam's ass back onto the mattress with one strong thrust. Sam groaned hard and shut his eyes. His head snapped back as Dean slowly rocked his hips against his, their hard cocks slipping against one another. 

Dean kissed Sam's neck and licked his jaw. "Sammy," he called quietly and ran his fingertips down Sam's face. Sam opened his eyes and took a shuddered breath. He leaned up into Dean's kiss - their first kiss since Dean's return - and lost himself in the gentleness of it, the familiar softness of Dean's mouth against his that contrasted so sharply with the firm roll of Dean's strong hips. Dean took Sam's tongue into his mouth, sucked on it, let his own tongue sweep over it sensually, avoided the image of reaching into a woman's mouth and slicing out her tongue with a rusty blade.

Dean pulled away and lifted himself up. He ran his palms down Sam's chest as he sat back and carefully hooked Sam's leg over his shoulder. Sam moaned at having his legs opened so wide again, his hot stretched hole exposed to Dean and the cool air in the room. "Dean, God..." he managed.

Dean ran his fingers lazily over Sam's leaking cock as he pushed into his ass. Sam shivered under him and clutched the sheets with white knuckles. "Did you miss me?" Dean asked, settling his hips flush against Sam's ass, his cock now buried completely inside.

Sam stared up at him with desperation in his eyes. Dean thought of the desperation he saw in the eyes of so many of his victims, but when Sam panted, "Yes, Dean, of course," he saw desire and love - so much different than the fear he was used to.

"I missed you," Dean said as he started fucking Sam slowly. He never let himself think of Sam in Hell, of how much he missed him, of what it would be like to see him again. "Sammy."

Sam rubbed his cock as Dean fucked him. "Oh God, Dean, harder," he begged. Dean pushed Sam's legs open just a little further and slammed deep into him. Sam swallowed a scream.

The last time Dean made someone beg and scream it involved hanging him on a hook by the skin under his neck, but here was Sam - hot and sweating and alive, begging for Dean to fuck him, moaning from the feeling of Dean's cock sliding in and out of him. Sam was breathing hard, shoving his hips down to meet Dean's thrusts. He jerked himself fast now, his cock swollen and needing to come. 

Dean felt it: the tension rising in Sam's body, Sam's ass clutching tighter. "Come for me, Sammy," he ordered. Sam let out a slutty moan and arched his back as he came all over himself. Dean pushed all the way into him and let Sam's ass clench around his cock. The convulsions from Sam's orgasm, the knowledge that he made Sam moan and beg and come, brought him over the edge, and he came hard into Sam's ass. 

Dean slowly pulled out and sat back to look Sam over. Sam's cheeks were flushed, his lips wet and bitten red, eyes glossy with pleasure, panting, covered in his own come, filled with Dean's, If the thought of a tortured soul in pain covered in blood crossed his mind, Dean didn't notice it. Dean leaned over Sam and kissed him. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair.


End file.
